Come What May
by PiercedStarling89
Summary: Not knowing the extent of the damage done after he returns from the dead, Sherlock gets help from our favorite pathologist after something happens in the morgue to his beloved John.


Come What May

It had been a blustery October day that they had strolled in to the morgue together to view what latest clue Molly had found on a person who had been victim to a recent serial killer. It had been a trying few days of little sleep, very few exchanged words aside from those that pertained to the case and little to no sustenance to keep either going.

John had looked the other way when Sherlock has snuck a cigarette in the back alley after a particularly gruesome victim had her throat slashed and her tongue cut from her mouth. Sherlock had worked tirelessly to put the pieces of the puzzle together and his attention was anywhere but in the present. They had walked in to the lab together, John had been quiet all day. Molly had been listening to music, and had gone into a quick explanation of why she had called him down here. What they had thought had been a knife to slash the victims throat was a surgical grade blade. Most likely a fresh scalpel. Meaning the field of prospective killers had just gotten smaller. Sherlock managed half a smile at Molly as he turned to John to tell him where they needed to head next. Except he found him pale faced and very near a panic attack instead.

Molly looked up as John mumbled an "excuse me" and dashed from the room. Although she had never had Sherlock's powers of deduction, she understood what it had been to set him off. Sherlock, exhausted and going on nothing, scrambled to make semblance of Johns hasty exit. He searched the room, deductions flying past his sight, but nothing that would have set John off to that extent.

"Molly! Molly what is different in this room right now than any other time we've entered? He's seen bodies before, far worse than the woman on the table. Nothing is out of place, nothing's changed! What happened?!"

Walking towards Sherlock hesitantly, Molly guided him to perch on the edge of a stool as to not injure himself. She knew exactly what was different. She bit her tongue the moment John had passed through the door. Very few times had Sherlock ever entered her lab before she had the chance to turn off her music. Silly show tunes that she would sing to herself or to the dead to keep the burden of her job light. John had asked her about it when he would come to visit her during the time Sherlock had been dead. He made it a point to come to the morgue at least once a week when he was up to it. It had taken him a very long time to come back to the hospital. Molly still saw the haunted look in his eye when he passed through the doors of her morgue.

But that song in particular had done John in when he had entered her lab rather quietly one afternoon. It was one of her favorite musicals. The Moulin Rouge. She could turn it on repeat and watch it for hours, tears streaming from her face as she sang every word, however off key it was. She hadn't heard him enter, and she hummed the song this time as she worked on an autopsy. It wasn't until the end of the song she had heard the smallest whimper from the corner as tears poured down his face. How he raced from the door once she had seen him despite her pleas to come back and talk to her. She didn't listen to music in her lab again for a very long time. A fact that she knew John appreciated.

But once Sherlock had made his presence known again, that he had in fact survived, she thought she would be safe. They were back together again, John had forgiven him. They were bound to one another in ways that no one else could ever explain. They worked, breathed and moved in such synchronization that it was much like watching Sherlock play the violin. They were music that flowed into perfect symphonies. They were stars coming together to form the brightest constellations. Although Molly had once been deeply in love with Sherlock, she knew no one in this universe would destroy what he and Watson had.

So she hadn't realized that the words of the song would still affect John in such a way. She realized then that no amount of time could destroy the triggers that John fought every time he saw Sherlock. Sighing she looked at the man in front of her, his impatience and fear screaming in his eyes as Molly figured out what he still hadn't.

"Please. Please tell me."

She nodded, moving away from him only long enough to turn the song back to the one she had been listening to when Sherlock and John had entered the room.

"Just….just listen to the words okay? The entire song. It was from while you were gone. I realize you did what you had to do. But these are things that killed him while you were away."

Pressing the play button, Sherlock listened as another show tune came quietly at first through her speakers, crescendo building in the first moments as he listened to the words echoed through a hauntingly beautiful song…

Never knew I could feel like this  
Like I've never seen the sky before  
Want to vanish inside your kiss  
Every day I love you more and more

Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?  
Telling me to give you everything  
Seasons may change, winter to spring  
But I love you until the end of time

Come what may, come what may  
I will love you until my dying day

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace  
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste  
It all revolves around you

And there's no mountain too high, no river too wide  
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side  
Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide  
But I love you, I love you  
Until the end of time  
(Until the end of time)

Come what may, come what may  
I will love you until my dying day  
Oh, come what may, come what may  
I will love you, I will love you

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Come what may, come what may  
I will love you until my dying day

Molly looked at Sherlock as the song came to an end, and she could have sworn she saw tears gathered in the corner of his eyes.

"Where is he Molly?"

"You know where he is Sherlock."

He raced from the room, his coat billowing behind him as he rushed back in momentarily, looking Molly in the eyes as he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

"Thank You."

Rushing to the stairs, he took them two at a time as he finally reached the door to the roof. Bursting through he saw John as he kneeled in front of the spot Sherlock had jumped from. He was curled in the tightest ball as he gripped the ledge hard enough to turn his knuckles white and Sherlock heard his rushed breath as he tried to compose himself.

"I'm sorry. I know we are in the middle of a case, and I know we have moved past this. I just….that song….and then where we were….and just…I couldn't. I just couldn't."

Sherlock dropped to his knees next to John, prying his fingers from the death grip he had on the wall. Pulling his hand away, Sherlock only gripped tighter as he yanked Johns arm and placed his whole hand open onto his heart. The beat underneath was unmistakable, and a fresh batch of tears gathered in John's eyes as he felt it resound within his own head. The steady pulse he felt from Sherlock's hand.

"I know you feel that John. I know you do. I'm right here. I'm not leaving again. Rain hell or high water nothing will tear me from you again. I promise. Yes its some silly song, and I don't give a damn about the case. It will be there in the next moment when we need to solve it. You are my concern. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you John Watson."

"That's the problem Sherlock. I do know what it's like to lose you. It almost killed me. Because I'm going to love you until the very end. Every moment, every hour, every day, always. I know there was no way around it, and no way to fix it, and no way to save everyone without sacrificing yourself. But I had my heart shatter the moment I saw you fall. I saw years go by until I saw your face again. I begged for death some days because it would be the only way to see your face. Hear your voice. And I'm sorry I'm telling you this now. It might just be because I'm so exhausted I see everything replay in my head the second I step through the doors of this hospital. But that song just does me in every time. Because I didn't think in my entire life I'd live long enough to feel this way about someone."

Sighing, he tilted his head back as he felt the wind whip through his hair in her cold autumn bursts. Sherlock watched him, this man he loved, and leaned forward so that their foreheads met.

"No matter what happens next John Hamish Watson, I love you until the end of time. You're stuck with me. No going back."

John's hand rose as he placed it against Sherlock's cold cheek, the wind blowing his curls wildly in the wind as he stared into the eyes that seemed to hold no ending. He kissed cold lips as hands came to wrap around the back of his neck and hold him in place.

"Until my dying day Sherlock Holmes. Even then. Ill love you until the end of time."


End file.
